Spring: before everything happened
by Lena Ban Obsidian
Summary: A series of things that might have been happening the spring before the video games occurs.


**Writer's block is not my friend**  
Lena

Jibber Jabber: While I am most pleased that I still have everyone stumped with Silence, it is evil and bad and even, I should say, not nice, and being oh-so-impossible to write. As I am so far from a Ronin Warriors mood right now as to have never seen the show in the first place, I can't tackle the big fic project that I started in that fandom that involves Dixxy's story, Ronin Senshi Routes. It is summer. This is unacceptable. I must write...something. So. Here. Something.  
....I'll figure out the rating after I write this. 

* * *

It was the first of spring, cold, wet. There was dew on the window-sill from the moss that seemed to be growing over the whole hideout; everything was green, young, new. 

Across the bay there was a cottage with a man who was not a man anymore that lived day to day, forgetting every detail only hours after learning them. A person with immense patience had been blessed unto him and it was good. They lived together in ever-present amnesia, and eventually it was hard to remember which of them kept forgetting the past and which of them was supposed to remember. 

At the port town where the misfits lived, there was happiness and ennui. The shaman chieftain went for a short sail. Her apprentice and soul-sister taught an eager youngling the ways of the Dragon Gods, while two young lovers made eyes at each other in the bar. The other customers sighed and sipped their drinks. Cryin' shame, a barmaid that buxom falling for such a...yuppie. But that was life, eh? They nodded sagely amongst themselves and regressed to story-telling in the embellished and magnificent way practiced best by sea-faring folk. 

On a ghost ship, there was a man smoking as he watched the ocean. The ship glided smoothly over the gentle waters, and he breathed a tangible sigh into the air, the sweet-smoke of new tobacco and mint rising into the sky like smoke from a dragon's nostrils. 

In the fishing town, children played and laughed and were children. A few of the slightly older variety were playing different games, new games. It was adorable. Adults watched on and smiled. 

Near the manor of the great snake, a young cadet learned the hard way that forgetting to bring one's elements on a routine guard patrol was not an option. He learned the meaning of something like pain, and lay bruised and beaten at the bottom of a cliff, wheezing on his own blood, from xenith to sundown without being missed. 

Forest spirits watched on in curiosity as two men stripped their armor and did things that were beautiful, because they loved each other. The soft song of the forest began to mirror their passion and discovered a new variation of its mystical theme. 

A hyena mother ate her own children. They had already been dead. Two soldiers who were supposed to guard the entrance to a valley looked on in sick fascination. 

FATE was untouchable and pure. It would die soon. It knew this, because it lived forever, forwards and back. 

Island. There was water and laughing. No human eyes could have seen the Faerie; this was their secret form, the one that allowed them to live even after they died. They rose and fell like thermals in the air and giggled. They were wind. They were not. They were simply children. There was magic surrounding them all. 

_It_ was lonely beneath the water. The fish were not very smart. _It_ decided to go above. 

Timeless forever; he was dead/not dead. He read a book he'd never read...for the one hundredth time. He grew no older, was no younger. He was lonely. Spirits of people who had been lost throughout time in the Dead Sea hovered like prisms in some rooms. Prison. It was a prison. But then, if he hadn't been imprisoned here, he would be dead. The book was about philosophy. As if he didn't think enough as it was. He closed the book without finishing. That had never happened before... 

Serge felt a vague stirring in his heart. He looked out at the sea from his room, and wondered. Then his mother yelled at him to help her cook breakfast. He forgot the strange feeling of _something coming_ in his near future and went to the kitchen, lighthearted. It was still spring, after all. 

~End Musings~ 

After Story notes: ...hn. Tempted to write some of these into longer stories. (IE, longer than a paragraph.) ...if someone can name all of the places listed in this fiction, in the order that the scenes change...mmmmeh, I'll give you a prize. Yes? 

....hmm, that could be fun. Yes. Name all the locations that the scene shifts to, in the order that they appear. I'll give you a CC fic. You can choose genre, pairing, whatever. Have at. 


End file.
